


The Bang & Clatter Red-Sox-Win-the-World-Series! Ficlets

by earlgreytea68



Series: Baseball [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baseball, M/M, Red Sox
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreytea68/pseuds/earlgreytea68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr ficlets. In which I watch the 2013 World Series. And so do John and Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bang & Clatter Red-Sox-Win-the-World-Series! Ficlets

**Author's Note:**

> I promised that, if the Red Sox won, I'd collect all of these and put them up in one place, so they're here and on AO3 for your eternal enjoyment. I kind of like that they will forever capture a snapshot of this postseason for me. I had no idea, when I started writing this fic in the summer of 2012, in the middle of our last-place-finish season, that I would post it in a season when we would go on to win it all. I had no idea, when I made John Watson a Red Sox fan, that we would all end here and it would somehow make sense to me that John Watson would be sitting in a flat in London freaking out about his Red Sox. But now I'm so happy I gave John Watson my team, because it was an amazing season of baseball, and I got to share it with him and with all of you.
> 
> Thank you, 2013 Boston Red Sox, with your ridiculous beards and your come-from-behind victories and your incredible likability and your infectious sense of fun and your unlikely march through the best pitchers in baseball and your inability to hit for a few games and it not mattering anyway and I could go on and on, but you were the epitome of why I watch baseball and you were everything that John Watson loves about baseball, and, anyway, thank you.
> 
> The ficlets are barely coherent and might not make much sense out of the context of the games they were written during. But they do contain: a terrible-commentator drinking game that results in a delightfully drunk Sherlock; a discussion of what Sherlock would be like as an umpire; and John Watson's opinions on some current baseball players.

World Series Game 1

 

Sherlock: John. I must have tea.

John: Good idea. I'll have one, too.

Sherlock: John...

John: The kettle's in the kitchen.

Sherlock: John...

John: ...

Sherlock: You can't expect *me* to make the tea?

John: Why not? You're a world-class pitcher capable of throwing a perfect baseball game. I bet you could manage to make tea, if you put your mind to it. I believe in you.

Sherlock: If I make tea, I might miss *important* *observations* in this baseball game. For instance, I just learned that it's easier to throw downhill if you are throwing from an uphill position. That is a sentence THEY LITERALLY JUST TOLD ME, John. And you expect me to get up and miss some other nugget of wisdom like this? What if they tell me that it's harder to run backward than it is forward because you can't see when you're running backward? What if they tell me--again--how running into a wall might hurt me?

John: ...

John: ...

John: ...

John: Fine.

Sherlock: Thank you. Oh, my God, they just told me that it should be your strategy to get more runs than the other team. JOHN, I WOULD HAVE MISSED HEARING ABOUT THAT STRATEGY. DID YOU KNOW WE SHOULD HAVE HAD THAT STRATEGY WHEN WE WERE PLAYING BASEBALL?

John: I liked it better when you didn't watch baseball games.

***

Sherlock: Do you see that?

John: See what?

Sherlock: That.

John: Yes. It's Jon Lester being congratulated by one of his teammates on a well-pitched game.

Sherlock: They hugged.

John: Sherlock, some players are friendly with their teammates and hug them and stuff. I mean, even teammates they're not shagging.

Sherlock: They hugged in super slow-motion.

John: They hugged normally, that was just a camera effect.

Sherlock: Did they play us in super slow-motion?

John: ...What do you mean?

Sherlock: When I snogged you up against the backstop after we won, were we in super slow-motion?

John: ...I think you have just made me very happy I've never gone back to re-watch that game.

Sherlock: Really? Because I've just given myself a reason to make sure I re-watch it immediately.

***

Sherlock: Shall I read you my list of other gems of wisdom I got from this game?

John: No.

Sherlock: The first person to ever call a pitcher "electric" was talking about a twenty-two-year-old. So apparently the adjective was first used to describe a pitcher this season.

John: Sherlock.

Sherlock: Losing one of your batters changes the composition of your line-up.

John: Sherlock.

Sherlock: The National League doesn't use a designated hitter. That is my favorite observations. It's so shocking and insightful an observation that they told me about it every single inning.

John: Sherlock.

Sherlock: How do you not think you could do a better job than this? You could do a better job than this in your *sleep.*

John: Sherlock, look at me.

Sherlock: ...When did you become naked?

John: Yeah, shut off this baseball game and let's go to bed.

 

World Series Game 2

Sherlock: Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!

John: Hang on, since when do you care about watching every single moment of a baseball game?

Sherlock: I care *now.* I don't want to miss a single ridiculous thing they say.

John: This is totally satisfying your need to criticize, isn't it?

Sherlock: It's almost too easy a target to satisfy that, John, let's be honest.

John: Good point.

***

Sherlock: John!

John: What?

Sherlock: What are you *doing*?

John: The *laundry,* Sherlock. Because someone has to put sheets on our bed.

Sherlock: Sheets are boring. And they are speculating on people's undergarments in this game.

John: Speculating on people's undergarments? Really?

Sherlock: Yes. If you ever speculate on another man's undergarments whilst calling a game, I'll get very jealous.

John: What if I speculate on *your* undergarments?

Sherlock: You don't have to *speculate* on my undergarments.

***

John: Drink.

Sherlock: ...What?

John: We're playing a drinking game.

Sherlock: Since when?

John: Since I said so. Drink.

Sherlock: ...Why?

John: Because they mentioned "Texarkana" again. We're drinking every time they mention "Texarkana."

Sherlock: Oh! Is that how this works?

John: Yes.

Sherlock: Can I play?

John: ...Yes. We're playing. That's what we're doing.

Sherlock: We have to drink every time they mention the designated hitter rule.

John: Oh. Yes. Excellent. We'll drink every time they mention the Green Monster, too.

Sherlock: Every time they say someone is the best they've ever seen.

John: You have to do a shot if they say they're the best ever, period.

Sherlock: Are you trying to get me drunk?

John: Actually, I'm trying to get *me* drunk, but you would be a bonus.

***

Sherlock: They act like they're married.

John: Who?

Sherlock: The commentators.

John: Well, I guess they spend a lot of time with each other, so.

Sherlock: Don't flirt with your fellow commentators.

John: Don't speculate on other men's undergarments, don't flirt with fellow commentators. You have a lot of rules.

Sherlock: Don't you read my press, John? I'm high-maintenance.

John: You should call a game with me.

Sherlock: Absolutely not. ...Why?

John: Because we already act like we're married, so we'd probably commentate well together.

Sherlock: Based on how brilliant our commentary on this game is right now?

John: That's only because we're drinking.

Sherlock: And that the only way you'd get me in a broadcasting booth: alcohol. Or cocaine, more likely.

John: Can we rescue this conversation?

Sherlock: And you want us to commentate together.

John: Whatever was I thinking?

***

Sherlock: I didn't realize they did things like this.

John: Things like what?

Sherlock: Interview the pitcher's parents.

John: They don't do it all the time.

Sherlock: Can you imagine if they'd interviewed my parents. ...*Did* they interview my parents?

John: I don't think we're drunk enough.

***

Sherlock: OH MY GOD.

John: Okay. Calm down.

Sherlock: DID YOU HEAR THAT?

John: Yes. I heard.

Sherlock: He just said, and I quote, "That's one of those statistics that is easy to understand."

John: Do you know shorthand? You take very quick notes.

Sherlock: You are missing the point, John. NO STATISTIC IS EASY TO UNDERSTAND. STATISTICS ARE COMPLICATED. THEY ARE USED TO MASK WHAT'S REALLY HAPPENING.

John: Have a drink, Sherlock.

***

Sherlock: "Sometimes taking a good pitch is as bad at swinging as a bad one." That's what he just said.

John: Uh-huh.

Sherlock: Actually, taking a good pitch is exactly as bad as swinging at a bad one. You know why?

John: Why?

Sherlock: Because they would both count as strikes against you. That is the *point.* They are *equivalent.* Are you listening to me?

John: Not much anymore, no.

***

Sherlock: They say that a lot.

John: What?

Sherlock: They'll be talking about a player, about his accomplishments, and then they'll say something like, "And he's one of the game's great people."

John: Yes.

Sherlock: By which they mean...that they like him.

John: Yes. I suppose that's what they mean, yes.

Sherlock: So when they don't say it, can we assume they don't like him?

John: But what does it matter who they like and don't like? They're idiots.

Sherlock: When I come up whilst you're commentating--

John: What makes you think you'll come up while I'm commentating?

Sherlock: John. Please. When I come up whilst you're commentating, and no one says that I'm one of the game's great people, are you going to rush in to defend me?

John: They might say you're one of the game's great people, because they'll be sitting next to me, and they know I'm dating you.

Sherlock: I highly doubt it. They'll leave it up to you.

John: Do you care that you get mentioned as one of the game's great people?

Sherlock: ...

Sherlock: I think I care that people would think you're dating a person who's *not* one of the game's great people.

John: I'm not dating you because you're one of the game's great people.

Sherlock: No. I know.

John: I'm dating you because you're great. Period. And they're idiots.

***

Sherlock: Ugh, I am in despaaaaaaaair.

John: You are? What? Why?

Sherlock: Because the Red Sox are looooooooosing.

John: ...You're rooting for the Red Sox?

Sherlock: Of course I am, John! Keep up!

John: I'm trying to keep up, but an hour ago you didn't even like baseball, and now you're sprawling all over the sofa in a melodramatic fit over it.

Sherlock: I am caring about this game for *you.*

John: How...kind of you.

Sherlock: And you are rooting for the Red Sox, so I am rooting in support of you. They are your teeeeeeeam.

John: I never played for the Red Sox.

Sherlock: They are the team of your *youth.*

John: I think you are drunk.

Sherlock: I'm insulted that you think that.

John: You were never in this much despair when *we* were losing. Your *actual* *team.*

Sherlock: That was different.

John: Yeah, you weren't drunk.

***

Sherlock: ...There's something I want to say.

John: And you're not saying it? Wait, let me mark this occurrence in my mental diary. "First time Sherlock kept a thought in his head."

Sherlock: You don't have a mental diary.

John: That's what offended you about that?

Sherlock: Yes.

John: ...

John: ...

John: Well?

Sherlock: Well, what?

John: Tell me what you wanted to say.

Sherlock: You'll tell me I'm drunk.

John: ...You *are* drunk.

Sherlock: I am *not.*

John: I promise not to tell you you're drunk. Tell me.

Sherlock: The little boy who just caught that home run. That's you with baseball all the time. That's how you feel about it. You're always eleven years old on a cold October night with your dad in Fenway catching a late-inning Ortiz home run to put the Red Sox ahead. Every single time you walk onto a field, you are...*that.*

John: ...

John: ...

Sherlock: Fine. You can say it.

John: No, I am going to kiss you instead.

Sherlock: ...That's acceptable.

John: Probably for a long time. Just warning you.

Sherlock: Also acceptable.

 

World Series Game 5

John: You're not talking.

Sherlock: I'm taking copious notes. Anyhow, *you're* not talking.

John: I'm not talking because I'm too scared to even *breathe.*

Sherlock: I think it's a good thing we swept.

John: Yes.

***

Sherlock: I wish they'd stop showing us these dugout interviews. We are trying to watch a *baseball game.*

John: Says the person who gave a dugout interview.

Sherlock: I did that just to annoy you.

John: You did that just to tell me you loved me. Which to you is basically the same thing.

***

John: Do you think you could have been an umpire?

Sherlock: An umpire?

John: Yes. You're judgmental and you make quick decisions. You'd probable deduce a strike was coming just from the wind-up of the pitcher.

Sherlock: You make a good point. I'd probably be the world's best umpire.

John: Don't get any ideas.

Sherlock: *You* gave me the idea.

John: I'm regretting it. Let's go back to not talking.

***

John: Red Sox win.

Sherlock: Well-pitched game.

John: Dirty water and all that.

Sherlock: Pleasure to watch.

John: Know what happens when the Red Sox win?

Sherlock: Yes, they play that terrible song. You sing it to me when you're drunk. Exhibit A, the other night.

John: Also, we have sex.

Sherlock: We have sex when the Red Sox win?

John: New tradition.

Sherlock: I *love* when the Red Sox win!

 

Travel Day

Sherlock: We could go to Boston for the game.

John: What?

Sherlock: For the game. Tomorrow. We could go. I'm sure Major League Baseball would love to have us in the crowd to focus on.

John: ...Why would you want to go to the game?

Sherlock: I *don't* want to go. But I thought you might want to go.

John: ...

John: ...

John: ...

Sherlock: Well?

John: I'm thinking. ...If we went to the game, we wouldn't hear the commentators.

Sherlock: An enormous point in favor of going to the game.

John: A point against it.

Sherlock: *Against* it?

John: I want to stay here, with you, and drink, and snog, and let you complain because you're sexy when you complain.

Sherlock: You're going to regret telling me I'm sexy when I complain.

John: Plus, we've been watching from here, and I don't want to jinx them.

Sherlock: I *knew* there was a superstition behind all of this.

 

World Series Game 6

John: I am torn on whether or not we should open a bottle of wine. We lost the night we played the drinking game. So I don't know if it's jinxing it. Or maybe it's not jinxing it and not playing the drinking game would be jinxing it--What's this?

Sherlock: I made you tea. Do you know how much energy you invest in trying to determine whether or not you're jinxing baseball?

John: ...You made me tea?

Sherlock: Yes.

John: You made me *green* tea.

Sherlock: Indeed. Good superstitions, yes?

John: ...Got 307 seconds to spare?

Sherlock: I thought you'd never ask.

***

John: You never had a nickname.

Sherlock: Do I look like a nickname sort of person, John?

John: No, but that doesn't matter in baseball. No one called you, I don't know, Sherly?

Sherlock: SHERLY? Who would *dare*?

John: Locky?

Sherlock: And you're not even *drinking.* You don't even have an *excuse.*

John: I am very stressed out about this baseball game.

Sherlock: Yes. It's clearly addling your mind.

Sherlock: ...

Sherlock: ...

Sherlock: ...

Sherlock: Someone tried to call me "Holmesy" once.

John: Oh, my God, really? That is *fantastic.* Who was it?

Sherlock: I've deleted it.

John: It didn't catch on?

Sherlock: Of course it didn't 'catch on,' John. Don't be an idiot.

***

Sherlock: John, I've discovered all you need to know how to say to do commentary.

John: Do tell.

Sherlock: Blah blah meaningless statistic blah blah.

John: Succinct.

Sherlock: Accurate. Don't you think this umpire's strike calls are a little overdramatic? ...Why are you giggling?

John: I'm just imagining how you would call strikes. You'd probably just wave your hand in an indecipherable manner. And people would say, "...What? What was that?" And you would sigh and say, "Couldn't you *tell*? As ever, you *see* but you do not *observe.* Pay closer attention next time!"

Sherlock: Yes, yes, hilarious.

John: You totally would, though, you can't even deny it.

Sherlock: There is no need to spell everything out for people, it atrophies their little brains.

John: "Why didn't you clarify whether the ball was fair or foul?" "It would have atrophied the players' brains, they should determine it for themselves."

Sherlock: When the Red Sox are winning, you get very flippant.

***

John: Awww, did you hear that? The catcher gazed up at him with support in his eyes.

Sherlock: Is that how used to gaze up at me?

John: Nope, I gazed up at you with lust. They used to have to cut away, couldn't even show it on television, too X-rated.

***

John: Lackey's just like you.

Sherlock: Dashing and sexy?

John: Stubborn.

***

John: Do you ever miss it?

Sherlock: Miss pitching? You know I don't.

John: Not just pitching. Miss the crowd chanting your name, giving you a standing ovation when you walk off the field.

Sherlock: Crowds never did that for me.

John: Yes, they did. Sherlock. They absolutely did, I *heard* them.

Sherlock: ...I never noticed that.

John: ...

John: ...

John: You didn't observe it, huh?

Sherlock: Shut up.

***

John: David Ortiz is just drinking it all in.

Sherlock: Recognize the impulse?

John: Oh, God, yes.

***

John: Go ahead. Say it.

Sherlock: Say what?

John: How it makes no sense that winning a series of meaningless games in a meaningless sport should turn grown men into little boys.

Sherlock: It doesn't make any sense. No logical sense at all. But you love it. And I love the effect that it has on you. And so I love it, too.

John: The Red Sox won.

Sherlock: Time for a shag?

John: They won the World Series. That's a lifetime of shags.

Sherlock: Silly me, I thought I was getting a lifetime of shags regardless of the outcome of this World Series.

John: Shut up, you're not the commentator in this household, remember?

Sherlock: John--before this progresses too far--can you tell me--the difference--between the National League--and the American League--again--because I think I've--forgotten--

 

...And everyone lived happily ever after.


End file.
